


A Five-Course Meal

by basedHermes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sexual Content, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basedHermes/pseuds/basedHermes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just miss my Holmes boys."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Five-Course Meal

It was quite a normal evening in London. Something seemed off though, as usual.

_Let's see._

 

 _8:00pm_.

Bright lights and the street mist. Cars and people briskly pass through the busy roads, past shops and restaurants, and some heading for the tube to get home.

A mysterious pale woman in a thick and evident-costly black fur coat stands out from the people's casual ensembles. She looks around before walking backwards into a dark alleyway.

Her face: high, accentuated cheekbones and a sharp chin. Her maquillage composed of blood red lipstick and mint blue eyeliner over dark, smokey eye shadow. Her hair is up in a neat and alluring bun with her hairline sided left, separating the thick fringes that are stunningly waved at the sides but tucked in behind her ears, connecting to the bun at the back of her head.

She turns around, facing the darkness. She tilts her head up and breathes in the crisp, night air.

_zzp._

She suddenly stops walking. Cool mist gathers around her ankles.

The woman hears whirring. A camera, she knows; she turns, clicking together her shiny, black pumps. She curtsies at the camera. "Hello, Mycroft," she greets.

_zzp._

Irene's mobile chimes in her pocket. She delves into her fur coat, eyes still fixed on the security camera. There was no Caller ID, but she tapped on the "Accept" option nonetheless.

"Good evening, Miss Adler."

"Little brother never got to tell you that he rescued me?"

"I am able read my brother like an open book. Though, I should have known he'd pursue to do such, and I should have entrenched the backfiring of this particular matter."

Irene rests a well-manicured hand on her chest. "Oh _dear,_ Mycroft, I'm hurt," 

"Please. Regardless, they are still after you. You are in danger and certainly you knew well to never return," says the all-too-familiar posh voice on the other line.

A ghostly smile curls slowly on Irene's face. Her pearly whites peek out in between her thin, red lips. From the camera, it seems as though they are bleeding.

The woman lifts the device, hovering it beside her cheek. The faint glow of the mobile’s screen reflects on her angular features in the dark. Her eyes are unblinking at the camera that ceased its whirring. "You know that I misbehave," she whispers into the microphone.

"What are your intentions, Miss Adler," asks Mycroft Holmes. His tone isn't exactly questioning.

"No intentions, darling. I just miss my Holmes boys," drawls the Adler woman in a seductive purr before winking. 

"You are not to contact Sherlock." 

The Woman laughed quietly. She tips her chin upward, smile now predatory.

"But what if it was him who would contact me? What if, he already _has_?" 

Her voice echoed and bounced off the brick walls of the alley. She bows once more, but not before blowing a kiss. Irene drops a piece of paper as she walks away further into the pitch-black darkness.

_zzp, zzp_

Written on the slightly crinkled sticky-note, it says:

**_I. Appetizer_**

**_II. Soup_**

**_III. Entrée_**

**_IV. Dessert_ **

**_V. Assorted Cheeses & Wine_ **

Mycroft exits the security camera application on his mobile. The elder Holmes sighs, running a hand through his face. He stands and pushes back the large armchair of his personal Diogenes room before picking up his black briefcase and newspaper in one hand with his Italian bamboo umbrella in the other. Mycroft steps out of the club in time with one of his posh cars approaching the curb. Hopefully she wouldn't cause big trouble tonight.

* * *

_20 minutes Earlier:_

The Woman steps out of the shower. She wraps herself in a lacy, translucent robe as she sits back gracefully on the duvets of her hotel bed. She brings her smooth, milky legs up to her chest. Her fingers of her left hand wrap around the warm teacup on the night stand.

It is 7 _:40pm_ now. It was an agonizingly long day.

She got off at the London airport from Pakistan at 10:30 in the morning. After, she procured a few more million pounds and two boxes of _Sobranie Whites_ from an acquaintance who was kind and thoughtful. _Well, only because she knew what they liked_. She decided to write down their contacts, contingent upon might needing anything else. At 12, she picked up some Indian for lunch, but coincidentally, she sees a familiar woman in the same restaurant.

Irene realized that she never got around to contacting Kate about being alive. But of course, she really couldn't if she tried. After being saved by Sherlock, she had to keep a low profile while in the city of _Karachi_.

 

She learned and mastered _Pashto_ for months, met and married a stout, rich man. This stout, rich man however, didn't permit her the use of a mobile phone.

She followed him everywhere; flirted with other men and women when without his awareness. She impresses him; wearing 24-karat gold cosmetics whilst feigning smiles and skittish affection. She praised him; made sure that birth-control was taken beforehand and convinced the doctor to lie about fertility issues. She prayed with him; staged the whole thing with insincere whispers and bored glances at the altar. She cleans the house frequently when he was present; smoked when he wasn't. She cooked for him, too; weeks of practicing, creating a long-term-in-the making, but untraceable poison following Sherlock's recipe written in a crinkled 20 pound note. 

Just a few weeks of time and trials, the man finally died yesterday. Irene fled with important papers, expensive cars, furniture, sculptures, statues, paintings, antiques, books, and trinkets from their house that she kept in a private storage house she bought outside of the city. Irene kept the priceless jewelry and exorbitant, upmarket clothes packed in a duffel bag. Then, she went to a childhood friend in the vicinity who gave her a temporary disguise, extra documents along with a fake passport, and a ticket to London.

 

Kate definitely changed of course, but in a bad way. The ginger appeared thinner. Her eyes were bloodshot with bags underneath them, new and old cuts on her dark lips and face, along with bruises on her legs. She only wore a black pullover, ragged shorts, and mucky slip-ons. Irene didn't recognize her the first time she set her eyes on the woman seated by the window of the Indian restaurant. Irene contemplated, but finally decided not to mind her, not wanting to cause any more trouble. She'll figure out a way on how to approach and explain to her soon.

Irene walked with her bag down to Tesco's for some groceries, to the drugstore for supplements, and then to a mobile store for a reputable, temporary unit.

The Woman then settled at a near hotel to reside in. 

 

She picks up the cup and brings it to her lips-- _ping_.

Irene thought she'd be able to rest for a few more hours, until now.

She sets down the cup immediately to pick up her mobile instead, and-- _Oh._ Her eyes slightly widen in surprise, a message from Mr. Holmes the younger. She smiles in anticipation as she swipes her thumb to unlock.

| _I_ _know you're here. SH_

| _Aren't you starving?_ SH _  
_

| _Let's have dinner. Five courses, if you wish. SH_

She types out her reply.

| _Oh, how delightful, I myself haven't had five courses in quite a while, I do hope you planned something delicious. Give me 30 minutes._

* * *

"I won't be back until tomorrow night, staying at Emma's," John says as he shrugs on his coat, looking at the detective sprawled on the couch.

"Emma?"

"Emma," John confirms.

"Emma with dichromacy? Or was it Emma with a crooked nose?"

John glares at Sherlock, who smirks with eyes still closed.

"Alright then, go on," Sherlock waves a pale hand at him.

John rolls his eyes and closes the door. His footsteps were swift and light, but still audible. When John's steps fade away, he takes an unexpected nap. 

Sherlock awakes to dimmed lights and light breathing. He was glad to have not fallen off the sofa like he usually does. Well, just because someone is keeping him there. Straddling him. Sherlock glances at the clock instead of the body above him, he was out for approximately thirty-five minutes.

"Sorry, a tad late, had to say hello to big brother. Let's start with the _**appetizer**_ , shall we, Sherlock dear?" She dips her face down to Sherlock's. Irene teasingly sucks softly on the detective's plush, bottom lips.

* * *

**Appetizer**

The detective is now fully awake and hard, humming softly at his lover as he lets her suck on his lips. Irene travels down to his neck, suckling and biting as Sherlock groans softly. She trails up on his earlobe, nibbling as Sherlock whimpers lightly. _Sherlock has always been sensitive_. She absolutely loves Sherlock's natural taste - very masculine, and the lingering smell of expensive bath wash. Irene lifts her head, now taking and sucking on his long, thin fingers. Those same fingers that play back classical pieces with great accuracy and ease, those same fingers that search bodies and help point new clues in crime scenes, those beautiful, skillful fingers indeed. She releases his fingers with an obscene _pop._ "Lovely appetizer, Sherlock," Irene compliments. The detective looks away, nodding bashfully to the side. 

Irene slides down Sherlock's lean body, gracefully, like a cat. She eyes the tented trousers, chin settled on the clothed groin.

### Soup

She hums as she slowly unzips the fine fabric of Sherlock's ridiculously-extortionate tailored trousers. She palms the detective's erection hard, receiving an instinct of light rolling of hips from the man. Irene pulls his pants down, revealing the long, and pale upward curve of Sherlock's erect cock. She pumps it with enough pressure for more pre-come to slide down the already-glistening shaft. Sherlock throws his head back, gasping softly with closed eyes, furrowed eyebrows and a slack mouth. His right hand reaches for the arm of the sofa above his head, the other, gently grabbing at The Woman's now-messy bun. 

Irene immediately starts a nice, pressed and fast pace as she engulfs the detective's cock. She grins as her lover who is keening now, rocking his hips, grinding against her lips. She silently prayed that Sherlock's landlady wasn't present in the downstairs flat.

Irene's eyes leave Sherlock's slack face to a corner on the ceiling that faced the flat's sitting room door. She smiles around the detective's cock and at the camera.

_zzp. zpp._

The whirring continues, but Sherlock is completely oblivious to the sounds of the room, drowned in pleasure instead. Irene winks at the camera before closing her eyes as she fondles with Sherlock’s balls next. That’s all it took before the young Holmes cried out a low and breathy moan.

Irene swallowed and lapped on last droplets at the head, swirling her tongue and pushing at the throbbing veins. He is still hard. She pulls off, but continuing to pump the blushing, wet, pink shaft. “Irene, please..” Sherlock moans.

"Let's move to the bedroom,” Irene says, eyeing the camera once more. Sherlock follows her eyes. There’s bound to be one in the bedroom as well, but they didn't care. 

 *** 

They were on each other’s mouths for some time now. As soon as they got to Sherlock’s bedroom, Irene pushed him down and removed all his clothes in a rush before grinding against his freed cock. Small noises drip freely from Sherlock's cupid-bow lips. Irene's short dress rode up all the way to her hips, warm juices leak out through her white mesh panties, the scent; musky and feminine. She removes her knickers in a blink of an eye, Sherlock gasps. Her moist, pulsating cunt slides up and down the consulting detective's lengthy shaft. Juices mixed together now, they grind up against each other harder and harder until the familiar heat in their stomachs uncoil in sweet, lengthy waves of orgasm. 

Mycroft squints at the bedroom camera as he watches his little brother come undone. The elder Holmes’s thin fingers hold up his chin. He’s Mycroft Holmes; he needs to do something about this. That woman is a fugitive, accused with continuing scandals, murder, theft, and now more. He really shouldn't be watching this. This is wrong. 

The Woman rides out both of their orgasms. Sherlock and Irene are both panting heavily. "Dear me, my apologies. I eat like a bird myself, mind waiting for a little bit?" she requests. "Please," was Sherlock's breathy reply.

### Entrée

Irene reaches inside the bedside table, opening the drawer that she knew contained condoms, lube, and sizable dildo with a detachable strap-on. She squeezes some lube onto her fingers and warms it up by rubbing her hands together. She prepares Sherlock with three fingers, ignoring his pleas of _"get on with it"_ and _"hurry."_ She hushes him with a finger from her free hand. "Don't want you to hurt yourself, darling, just a few more pumps." After a minute, she effortlessly wears the strap-on and coats some lube onto the well-crafted dildo. Sherlock gulps as the head of it easily enters his dusky pink hole. 

Irene bites her lip as she slides the rest of it in. Sherlock gasps loudly. "Wait," Irene looks down at him with concern. "A moment, hold on," he breathes. She ignores this with a wicked smile. "Can't have that."

Irene starts to thrust, keeping a strong and fast pace. Sherlock's cock drips with some more pre-come. She smirks and thumbs the wet cock's head, running over the slit with the soft pad of her thumb. Sherlock's back arches off the bed with his eyes wide. He starts to drool at the increasing pleasure. " _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,_ " he curses repeatedly. She's never heard a Holmes cuss so much before, it's quite shocking really. Well, not since the time when after Sherlock saved her from being beheaded. What a wonderful night they had together. Irene stops, slowly rocking in a pace that Sherlock finds maddening, but he doesn't protest. Irene grins as his eyes roll back shut for a moment, brows rising, and mouth open, releasing hot, clouded breaths. The next thrusts are heavy and pounding right into his prostate.

Irene leans forward, thrusting in deeper and harder and faster, almost molding Sherlock into his mattress. "Seeing the stars now, aren't you, fucking _slut_ ," Irene coos.

Sherlock wraps his long, lean legs around her waist and back to give her further access. From below, Sherlock's arsehole is leaking.

"Fuck, _fuck,_ " Irene groans.

"Yes, yess-sssss-- Oh, _God, just like that._ Don't stop, don't stop, don't fucking _stop,"_ Sherlock moans.

Sherlock comes with a cry before shuddering. Strong ribbons of ejaculate decorate both of their torsos.

Irene stays still as they breathed heavily for 3 minutes, dildo still in her lover's stretched arse. 

### Dessert

Irene pries Sherlock's mouth open gently, smudging her lipstick onto the sides of his mouth in the process. Sherlock complies, meeting her hot, wet tongue. Their tongues spill hotly on each other, they dance and slide before Sherlock presses his head back on the pillow, breaking the kiss. He reaches over his bedside, retrieving a condom.

She rips the foil packet hurriedly, sliding the condom on Sherlock's slick cock. Irene hovers over the hard detective. "Ready?" she asks.

Sherlock nods weakly. His eyes dark and blown with lust. She was roughly riding, fucking herself on Sherlock Holmes. Mycroft gulps and pockets his phone.

The skin-on-skin wet slaps are very, very audible despite Sherlock’s lusty and desperate chorus of groans, whimpers and whines of _“ah, ah, hah, ahnn..”s_. Soon, Sherlock closes his thighs together and starts thrusting upwards desperately. His testicles are drawn up and full, slapping against the woman's dripping cunt.

Irene reaches down and rubs hard at her clitoris, releasing more streams of liquid down to Sherlock’s inner thighs, shaft, and balls. Irene is rocking her hips hard against Sherlock’s hot cock, sliding back and forth thoroughly. The head of his cock hits the hilt and that was it.

Sherlock flinches, moaning loudly as he came.

Irene looks down at him with a devious smirk, lipstick smudged at the corners. She continues to ride out Sherlock’s wave of orgasm once more. Sherlock whines he rolls his hips upwards, still coming with  long streams of ejaculate.  The detective wasn't sure when he will stop coming, but he kept thrusting and threw his head back. His come seeps out of the condom to the already-wet bed.

_“Fuuuuckk..”_  

Sherlock passes out immediately, leaving Irene to clean him and herself. Adler carries Holmes to the couch in the sitting room as she replaces the sheets and puts a glass of cold water on one of the bedside tables before gently carrying her lover back in bed. She tucks him in with a kiss. The kiss wakes him up and to which he kisses back more passionately. Tongues are dancing in each other’s mouths, wet and smooth and affectionate. Irene breaks the kiss and glances at the clock and Sherlock gladly drinks the water.

### Assorted Cheeses & Wine - (some actual eating involved)

After luxurious showers, Irene and Sherlock sat in the small kitchen, settled with _1999 Domaine de la Romanee Conti La Tache_ in each of their glasses as they smiled down on a silver tray which held 10 cheeses ( _5 pairs)_  impaled on foodpicks and laid out on a wax sheet.

Sherlock takes his eyes off the tray for a moment, looking up to Irene, deducing her face. _Slightly furrowed eyebrows and_ _lips quirked upward in one side - curiousity and amusement._

"You have questions," Sherlock deadpans, taking a sip of his wine. 

Irene lifts her head in quiet surprise. She tastes the first two cheeses before replying. "Oh, yes. How did you manage to get _pule_ and _white Stilton_ besides--" she squints, identifying the two other cheeses. She tilts her head to one side, unable to identify by sight. She tastes the last three."-- _Bitto_ ,  _Wyke Farms, and Moose_?"

Sherlock shrugged as he picked on his own cheeses. "I stole it from Mycroft's pantry."

Irene giggles, which turned into a laugh in a few seconds. Sherlock joins her.

***

Both of them were situated in Sherlock's bed, nothing but undergarments. The two stares up at the ceiling. Irene's 

Sherlock's long fingers lightly caress the woman's scalp, curling his digits around in her locks.

“That was a lovely dinner, Sherlock dear, I'm sorry I couldn't stay,” says Irene, faking a sad tone as she sat up.

There weren't any strings attached anyway. Sherlock nods and pulls her down for one last kiss before she leaves. The stench of sex was still pinned strongly in the room.

* * *

 A week later, Irene contacts Sherlock - _8:00pm_

| _Starving._

| _Are three courses fine? SH_

| _Yes. Are you free tonight?_

| _Yes. SH_

| _Three courses, then. My place._

| _Ten minutes. SH_

A three course dinner will be held at Irene Adler's new residence; which, in subtext, means that Sherlock will be given a chance at the reins.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:  
> • I do not profit off any of my works here on AO3.org.  
> • This work stands as a oneshot and no sequels.  
> Disclaimers:  
> • Original Sherlock Holmes - © Sir Arthur Conan Doyle  
> • BBC’s Modern Adaptation of Sherlock Holmes - © Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, & others  
> • And other notable Sherlock Holmes Adaptations - en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adaptations_of_Sherlock_Holmes


End file.
